Page 90 of Pied Sniper

“I say we continue with the plan to drop the money. We can pad it out with fake bills,” said Solomon. “We put trackers on the money and inside the bag, and we set up a sting so tight, the kidnappers can’t possibly escape it.”

“I agree,” said Garrett, looking at Maddox, who nodded.

“We need to control the drop zone in advance,” added Maddox. “This could be our best shot at a rescue.”

“But I’ll still do it, right?” asked Davy. “I’ll still be there when they hand over Tiffany?”

“It’s unlikely she’ll be immediately released,” I explained although I wondered if she would be released at all. Would she have the gall to take the money and run? It was very possible. Then I thought about all the lucrative deals that would flood in once she resurfaced after her “ordeal.” A rescue on camera would play into everything the news outlets, and Tiffany, loved. Right now, the most important thing was placating Davy so he didn’t screw up. “She’ll probably be dropped at a random location as soon as the money is collected and they think they’ve gotten away. Lieutenant Graves will make sure Tiffany knows she was only released because of you.”

“Okay, cool,” said Davy, nodding. “Will you be here?”

“We need to chase down another lead, but I’ll check in on you,” I said. “Does that sound okay?”

“Yes.”

While Maddox sat with Davy and took his phone to watch the video, Garrett, Solomon and I retreated to the entryway. “What’s the other lead?” asked Garrett.

“The rest of Tiffany’s family. We want to speak to them. It doesn’t sound like she was in contact with them, and her half-sister, Catherine didn’t have much to say about them that was kind. But they still might be able to shed some more light on Tiffany. My suspicions about her are growing rapidly,” I finished.

“How so?” asked Garrett.

“The kidnappers never asked Jonathan for money, only Davy. Why didn’t they go to the rich boyfriend? Why tap the ex-boyfriend from when she was just a kid? It doesn’t add up, unless you factor in Tiffany’s acceptance that she and Jonathan were through and he was unlikely to pay up. Meanwhile, Davy is a lovestruck sap who already told her he has lots of money stashed away for their future.”

“You think she’s playing him?” asked Garrett.

I nodded. “I think it’s a strong possibility. She didn’t get enough from Abigail. Regardless of what she got there, she had already lined up Davy to tap as the next sucker on her list.”

“That would mean she’s behind the whole thing,” said Solomon.

“We have to consider she might have done this as a publicity stunt, but I wonder if it’s more about getting the immediate, untraceable cash,” I said. “It’s still weird that they don’t demand a bank transfer that they could digitally move to another account in seconds. That’s far easier to set up than the withdrawal of huge wads of cash.”

“We can reconvene during dinner at Mom and Dad’s,” said Garrett. “The sting won’t go down until midnight tonight and I could do with an hour off and some decent food and entertainment.”

Solomon looked at me and said nothing.

“We’ll be there,” I said, “but at the first sign of entertainment, I’m out the door.”

Garrett snorted. “If Tiffany is behind this, I’ll make sure she gets a big, fat bill for wasting police time. She’ll regret it.”

“Maybe. She’s the kind of jerk who seems to always land on her feet though. Even if things don’t play out as Tiffany intended, we need to take a closer look at her life. And get a late lunch. I’m hungry.”

“I like that plan. Let’s start with her parents. The real ones, this time,” said Solomon, checking his phone. “Apparently, they just got into town and they’ll meet us at the agency.”

Chapter Eighteen

Tiffany’s parents couldn’t have looked more unlike the parents I imagined. That is, the ones I originally imagined. Along with the rest of the world, I thought Tiffany was orphaned and her former parents were a rich all-American couple. Their lives were cut tragically short under circumstances Tiffany never chose to explain. With the news of her scholarship, I figured they were a fairly average couple instead. But these two looked like they had plenty of money. Scads of it. Her mom was decked out in only famous labels and the dad had an Italian brand emblazoned across his sweater as he toyed with a Mercedes key fob. Expensive sunglasses were perched on his head, which seemed unnecessary since it wasn’t sunny. On the table between us lay every piece of evidence we needed: birth certificate, school report card, and photographs of Tiffany as a baby right up until her late teens.

“People used to think we were sisters,” said the mom, brushing some imaginary lint off her Chanel jacket with a perfectly manicured finger. “Now my poor baby has been kidnapped! It’s just so unbearable!”

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I know this must be hard for you, Mrs. Busch.”

The mom reached into her over-sized purse, pulling out a delicate, lace-edged handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. “Call me Dolores,” she said. “And this is Jeffery. I just can’t imagine what my little Rose Busch is going through.”

“The police will get her back, honey,” said Jeffery. “She’ll come home where she belongs.”

“I understand you haven’t been in contact with your daughter for a while,” I started.

Dolores sniffled into her handkerchief. “There was a misunderstanding.”

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